


You are my sweetheart, my only sweetheart

by a_written_dream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1920s-2010s, Awesome Howling Commandos, Bucky Barnes's Notebooks, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, POV Clint Barton, POV Steve Rogers, POV Third Person, POV Tim "Dum Dum" Dugan, POV Varies, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Varying POV, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, pov winifred barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_written_dream/pseuds/a_written_dream
Summary: How can Winifred deny her son a friendship with the sickly boy when James is grinning like that at her?Dum Dum doesn’t think he’s seen Barnes smile so brightly. ”Bluest eyes you ever saw. Best ass in Brooklyn, too.”Who are you? My sweetheart. But not mine.Clint doesn’t have time to ask what Barnes means – love-found-during-war stories are almost better than love-enduring-war stories, but just almost.”You hadn’t even spoken to a girl who wasn’t Becca by eight, Buck,” Steve deadpans. Bucky’s smile turns impossibly fonder.– – –Or, five times Bucky Barnes spoke about his sweetheart.





	You are my sweetheart, my only sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> The title is so adapted from the song you think it's adapted from

Winifred Barnes smiles softly at her eight-year-old son as he walks into the kitchen with a thoughtful frown on his face.

”Hello, dear. How was school?” she asks as he sits down by the table with his school books.

”’twas okay,” James states. Winifred frowns when he doesn’t elaborate; James has always been a talkative child, and usually loves rambling on about his day, a trait both him and his sister have gotten from Winifred’s side of the family.

”And how’s Steven? Is he getting any better?” Winifred asks then, because where could James have spent the afternoon if not at sickly little Steven’s house? The mere mention of his friend’s name straightens James’ back out and makes him grin.

”He’s better,” James says with a confirming nod and a goofy smile. ”We couldn’t go out, cause he’s still coughing, so we stayed in and drew instead, but Mrs. Rogers says he can go to school tomorrow!” he rambles.

”That’s good to hear,” Winifred says with a smile. God knows that poor child is bedbound way too much. James grins toothily, showing off the gap where he’s missing a tooth. ”Now finish your homework. Dinner will soon be done,” Winifred states and James pouts, just the slightest, before getting into his books while Winifred gets back to peeling potatoes.

”Ma?” James asks a little while later.

”Yes, James?” Winifred answers. She knows without turning around that her son is wrinkling his nose. Winifred doesn’t mind that he prefers to go by ’Bucky’, but ’James’ is still his given name, and Winifred happens to be a little conservative.

”How do you know you’re in love?” The question comes with all that innocence children carry – a simple, curious question, just like any other. Winifred knows she shouldn’t be surprised by the question, James is eight years old, after all, but she finds herself startled by it. Perhaps it's because James has never spoken of a girl before, or maybe it's because Winifred hasn’t realised just how old James has gotten.

”Well…” Winifred has to take a moment to think. Love, the feeling that novel upon novel have tried to explain, but never gotten quite right. ”When I first fell in love with you father,” she starts, and James looks at her with expectant eyes, ”he was the most important person in my life. He made me happier than anyone else, and I didn’t want to spend a second without him.” While that doesn’t cover the feeling she had – still has, to some extent – for her husband, she figures that the explanation of love will come to James when he’s of age. ”Why do you wonder, dear?”

James sits quietly for a while, his brows pulled together in a thoughtful frown, a small wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows, before firmly stating, ”I’m in love.” Winifred finds the decisive look on his face absolutely endearing.

”You’ve found yourself a sweetheart, huh?” she asks. James nods and Winifred smiles fondly. ”You’ll have to bring her around some time,” she states, and James grins brightly.

”Can Steve come over tomorrow?” Winifred doesn’t quite understand where the thought of Steven comes from, but she figures she shouldn’t be surprised that her son’s mind goes from one thing to another so quickly – especially when it comes to his best friend. She hasn’t seen two boys as close as they are, and it warms her heart to know that her son has found such a good friend, even if the worry of Steven passing is an ever-present concern of hers.

”If he can go to school, he’s more than welcome over.” How can she deny her son a friendship with sickly Steven Rogers when James is grinning at her like that?

”Thanks, Ma.”

* * *

Dum Dum guffaws at the story Jones is translating from Dernier. How someone manages to get turned down so many times only to end up with cake on his head, is beyond even Dum Dum. He’s had his fair share of ugly rejections, but that one surely takes the price.

Barnes is sitting uncharacteristically silent, a thoughtful frown on his face, a wrinkle between his brows.

”What about you, Sarge?” Dum Dum asks. Barnes blinks out of his thoughts and turns to him. ”You got a girl back home?” The corner of Barnes’ lips turns up. He brings his cigarette to his mouth and takes a drag, before slowly blowing it out. Stalling, is what he’s doing, and Dum Dum is pretty sure he’s not the only one who picks up on it.

”Not exactly,” Barnes states. It’s probably meant to be nonchalant, but Dum Dum hears the catch in his voice.

”But you got eyes on someone, it sounds like,” Morita states, taking a drag from his own cigarette. Barnes huffs out a laugh.

”Yeah. Yeah, you could say that,” he says, a fond smile playing on his lips.

”You’ve got yourself a sweetheart who isn’t yours, then?” Falseworth asks. While the rest of the 107th have gone off to their bunks, the six of them spend the early night reminiscing about home. Dum Dum knows everyone gets a little homesick sometimes, even if they won’t admit it.

”I suppose I do,” Barnes states. None of them know what to say to that. Not because they don’t know what it’s like to have unrequited feelings, but because Barnes looks so fine saying it. He speaks of it as if it doesn’t bother him, as if he’s accepted the fact that his feelings aren’t requited, as if he’s happy to just be able to say that he’s in love. Dum Dum thinks he seems utterly and completely whipped, and like he knows it, too.

”What, she taken?” Dum Dum speaks up first. He can’t even begin to imagine the pain the poor fella’s had to go through to come to such a satisfied state of mind. ”Or does she just not like that ugly mug of yours?” he banters. Barnes barks out a laugh, and whatever tension has built disappears.

”Not interested,” Barnes states with a chuckle. Dum Dum honestly admirers Barnes for it, for looking so unbothered by the statement. ”And even if that hadn’t been the case, it wouldn’t work,” Barnes adds. If anything tonight has bothered him, this appears to be it. Dum Dum raises his eyebrow and Barnes shrugs. ”It’s complicated.” Dum Dum doesn’t like the look on Barnes’ face, but he doesn’t know what to say to make it go away. Jones, apparently, does.

”Well, you seem smitten. Tell us about her.” The look on Barnes’ face – whatever it was – disappears, and Dum Dum doesn’t think he’s seen the fella smile so brightly.

”Skinny little thing. Blond hair and the bluest eyes you ever saw,” Barnes says. The love shines in his eyes, even as he smirks. ”Best ass in Brooklyn, too.”

* * *

_There are words. Vague, muffled, unclear._

_Sweetheart. Love. Home._

_There are images. Blurry, unclear._

_Blond. Blue. Small, but then not._

_Youre my_

_Youre not mine._

_~~I want you to be mine.~~ You cant be mine. Why cant you be mine?_

_Complicated. Wrong? Its not wrong. Its not allowed. They think its wrong. Who are they?_

_Who are you?_

_Fighter. Stubborn. Kind._

_Selfless. Selfish._

__

__

_I saved you. You saved me._

_Newspapers. Charcoal. Asthma._

_~~Would die for~~ Would live for._

_My sweetheart. But not mine._

_I’m in love? I love? you._

* * *

Clint thinks it’s a bit weird, still, to have Barnes around. It’s not that he doesn’t like him, he does – the guy is pretty chill, he’s got good taste in movies, he’s a hella good shot, and Clint is pretty sure he’s the only one that can keep Steve in check – but it feels weird to have another person who understands Russian in the Tower, and he still doesn’t really know what to say to the guy. It’s a little bit like it was the first few months of getting to know Steve. Did small-talk work differently back in the ’40s?

”So, Barnes.” Clint decides when Barnes walks into the kitchen that he might as well make an effort. Can’t get to know a guy if you don’t try. ”You got anyone back in the days?” he asks, because surely most people can talk about love.

”What, like a sweetheart, you mean?” Barnes asks with a small frown, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. Clint doesn’t know much about 1940s language, but he supposes that is what he’s getting at.

”Yeah, something like that,” he confirms with a shrug. ”You got a girl back in Brooklyn you wanted to come back to after the war?” he asks. To be honest, Clint’s always been a softie for love-enduring-war stories. Barnes hums and a smile tugs at his lips.

”In a way,” he states. ”Had a pretty little blond I wanted to get back to, at first.” Though Clint does love love-enduring-war stories, he also knows that in real life things aren’t always so romantic.

”What happened?” he asks, because he can’t even try to begin guessing which of the thousand possible reasons made Barnes change his mind.

”Things changed. We both changed. In the end there wasn’t anything to come back to.” Barnes shrugs as if it doesn’t bother him, and Clint assumes it shouldn’t, after 70 years. But the way Steve was hung up on the past for years – until he got Barnes back, as a matter of fact – tells Clint that Barnes probably never really was too bothered by the entire thing.

”That’s too bad,” he says anyway, because curtesy.

”Nah, it’s fine. It worked out pretty well in the end, anyway,” Barnes says with a grin that almost matches the ones he only ever gives Steve. Clint doesn’t have time to ask what Barnes means – love-found-during-war stories are almost even better than love-enduring-war stories (but just almost) – because Steve walks into the kitchen and smiles at them.

”Morning,” he greets, and that grin that Barnes has decisively saved for Steve makes its way into Barnes’ face.

”Hiya, Steve.”

* * *

Warmth fills Steve’s chest every time he sees Bucky talking and hanging out with anyone in the Tower. It makes him happier than he can describe to see that Bucky’s doing okay, that he’s pushing past his fears and learning how to be himself again. Seeing Bucky talking to Clint wasn’t surprising – Steve thinks they’d become great friends with a little bit of time – and Steve isn’t one to invade anyone’s privacy, but Bucky looked so relaxed that he can’t help himself but ask.

”So, what did you and Clint talk about?” Bucky looks up from the science fiction novel he’s reading and raises an eyebrow.

”Not much. He asked me if I ever had a sweetheart back before the war,” he states with a shrug, but there’s a smile on his lips.

”Who did you tell him about?” Steve teases. He used to be jealous, but ever since getting Bucky out of cryo, he hasn’t felt anything for the women Bucky used to date way back when. He’s the one who’s got Bucky by his side now, not any of them, anyway. (He’s disappointing himself a little bit by thinking that, but he really can’t bring himself to stop.)

”Told him about a cute little blond,” Bucky says with a secretive smile. Steve frowns at him.

”You never dated a blond?” he states, though it comes out far more like a question. Bucky confirms with a shake of his head.

”Yet there I was, madly in love,” Bucky states and that sure takes Steve’s breath away. Bucky had been in love? Taken-as-in-dating is one thing, but taken-as-in- _in-love_ is a completely different thing. Steve mentally scolds himself for hoping whoever it was is dead, because _what the hell, Steve?_

Steve settles for, ”You never told me,” not sure if he appreciates that fact or loathes it.

”Didn’t ever seem like the right time,” Bucky states. Steve doesn’t quite understand why he’s grinning so, but it makes a fire burn in Steve’s chest, so he doesn’t mind.

”What do you mean the right time?” Steve snorts, because that seems absolutely ridiculous. ”You could’ve told me when you figured it out, or literally any other time,” he states. They used to tell each other everything – okay maybe Steve can’t say much without being a hypocrite, but he’s a little upset so let him.

”You didn’t know what love was at seven, you wouldn’t have understood what I meant,” Bucky says and rolls his eyes, but the smile has turned soft and fond around the edges. Steve’s confusion is growing by the minute.

”You hadn’t even spoken to a girl who wasn’t Becca by eight, Buck,” Steve deadpans. Bucky’s smile turns impossibly fonder, and Steve’s heart flutters warmly in his chest.

”Everyone keeps assuming it’s a dame, what’s up with that?” Bucky asks with a chuckle.

”Well-” Steve blinks. He doesn’t know what to say to that, because why does everyone assume it’s a girl? ”Wasn’t it?” Bucky grins widely before it falls back into that impossibly soft smile that has Steve’s inside going mushy. Maybe he doesn’t hope whoever it was is dead, after all.

”You’ve always been my sweetheart, Rogers. And you always will be, whether you like it or not.” Bucky smiles at him like Steve is the only thing in the world that matters, and Steve doesn’t understand how he hasn’t seen it before. He can’t stop the laugh that bubbles in his throat or the grin that stretches his cheeks.

”I can deal with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that the excerpt from Bucky's notebook isn't technically Bucky 'speaking' about his sweetheart, but you get the drift. Also I hope that part made sense?
> 
> I absolutely love these 'five times blah blah' fics.
> 
>  
> 
> Constructive criticism is _always_ welcome!


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